The rain started before dawn.
It wasn't heavy—just a slow, steady drizzle that turned the ash on the courtyard into thin streaks of gray mud. It fell on the barricades, on the corpses still sprawled outside the gate, on the shattered trucks left burning in the street.
By the time the first rays of light touched the sky, the flames had died, and the smell of blood and gasoline mixed into something foul enough to make even hardened stomachs twist.
Riku stood by the gate, silent. Rifle slung, boots soaked. His eyes moved over every ruin, every crater, every still form. The raiders were gone—what remained of them. But their presence lingered in the smoke, in the holes torn through the walls, in the thin red lines trailing down the rain-soaked concrete.
Suzune walked up beside him, scarf damp, hair clinging to her cheek. She said nothing for a while, only scanned the street with her scope.
"They didn't leave scouts," she said finally. "Either they're regrouping… or they're finished."
